


The Sea Wants to Take Me

by imstillprettyodd



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Heartbreak, I need to, I shouldnt be starting anything new, Short One Shot, Spoilers if you havent played the chapter yet, The Chariot, Touch-Starved, but i just, pretty much like no dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-01-27 15:42:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12585148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imstillprettyodd/pseuds/imstillprettyodd
Summary: "Then...then just for tonight..." her voice fades with the wind as she stares him in the eye. All he wants to do is touch her face, but his hands are shaking.Title from "I Know It's Over" by The Smiths





	The Sea Wants to Take Me

In fact, his whole body feels like it is shaking. He shivers in his layers of clothing, which suddenly feel overwhelmingly hot. He looks at her. She stares back. He doesn't have the courage to close the infinite space between them, the space heightened by the dark horizon of the sea. 

Her angular brown eyes examine him and he's never once felt this exposed in front of her. She was the one who was supposed to feel exposed around his cheeky smirks and boundary-pushing comments. He feels like a hot, sweaty, messy idiot. He can't breathe. His hands fumble and he grabs the silks of her skirts in his fist. She doesn't recoil in surprise, but squeezes his gloved hand back, their grasps over her thigh.

"Sirsa..." She can barely hear him, he's whispering, and the waves crash and roll. 

"Julian..." Her other hand moves to his face and she rubs a thumb over his lips. Sirsa wants him to speak, but knows he can't, knows that he's sweating from his scalp to the undersides of his feet. "Just for tonight...go on..."

It's all whispers and mutters, their conversation, and the words swirl out of her mouth like the hair that is about to swirl around his face, if she would just lean closer. 

But he's the first to lean in and caress her face. A wave, not one from the sea, one from his stomach washes over him and it's hot and cool at the same time. Their lips touch and they have to tilt their heads to not smash their noses together. They're desperate and they kiss each other open-mouthed and he pulls away red and out of breath. Sirsa is impulsive, she thinks with her heart and accepts his whisper of "one more" into the skin of her cheek. 

"One more," a chant. A chant like one Asra would have her sing to heighten her magical powers. She wraps her hand around Julian's neck, brings him closer to her until their thighs touch and their chests are pressed together. Sirsa runs her fingertips over his moving jaw as they kiss. His mouth tastes bitter, like coffee, and the sea-smell of fish. She wants to inhale it all. She does as her tongue finds his and he pulls back as soon as they start, catching his breath, going back to her like a diver. She is the depths of the water and everytime he goes up for air, he must come back. The way the water holds him is addictive.

And she does hold him with her whole entire body, it seems. It's encompassing. Her arms are around his wide back and her legs are pushed into his as the two of them twist from their waists to move even closer. "This is the last one, I promise," he whispers and doesn't seem to notice that he's lying. She grips his face, pulls his chin down so that he'll look her in the eye. He's crying, no, not really, but she sees the tears that want to fall out. She tries to tell him to let them fall, that it's 'okay' with a glance. He kisses her cheek, rubs her face with his like a cat and she holds him there, his breath on her collarbone and her hand in his hair.

"Ilya," she mumbles, trying to mimic the way she has heard Portia and Asra say it. She feels like she shouldn't speak. A strong wind blows her hair away from her, toward his hunched form and as if on its own accord, surrounds him. His hands grip harshly at the fabric of her shirt, but she doesn't mind. She shuts her eyes, silently wishing that they are not caught off guard. 

* * *

They leave the coast and Sirsa has lost all sense of time. She holds Julian's arm and the transition of sand to cobblestone under her bare feet is uncomfortable. Her mind isn't clear now, surprise rising forward over all other thoughts. She's not mad at him, even though her face went red and her heart felt like it left her body altogether when he told her on the coast. Sirsa holds him now, having seen him at his most vulnerable, and she could have left, but Asra had made her the way she was: soft and pliable. She would hold him to the end of time, she decides in that small amount of time. She tries to look at him, but he won't face her, and her head begins to feels heavy, like it could fall off of her neck.

She squeezes his gloved hand as they near the shop and she's scared of going back in there only to be alone. They turn the corner and he stops, detaches her from himself very gently, and looks at her for what he's decided is the last time.

"I'm too dangerous for you," he tells her again, as if reminding her. She wants to respond that he is the saddest person she knows. She wants to respond that the only harm that he could do would be to make her sad just like him. Her lips open and he leans toward her quickly. She hopes he will catch the breath that is coming from her with his own lips, make the scene at the dock never-ending, but he merely kisses both her cheeks. He swishes his cape and heads into the darkness and she wants to chase after him. Her feet move, but her brain makes her stop. She holds her hand out away from her body. Her heart beats fast and she places a hand over her breast to try to calm it. Gods, she wants to chase after him. 

Sirsa backs away into the shop door as his figure disappears. She is half-empty. He is carrying a piece of her with him as he walks away. 

She enters the shop after a moment more and the familiarity of incense is warm and comforting. There is Asra, cooking late dinner. She immediately opens her arms and envelopes him in a hug. 

"Hello, Sirsa," he says, his voice sweet in her ear and his arms embracing her. She laughs off her emotional state as her happiness to have him back with her. He laughs too, but doesn't pry. He would, he really would, but her voice is bright and cheery and she begins telling him how she has been, without him asking. 


End file.
